During the flying season, bees clear their digestive systems at random in the fields. But in cold weather, they may be cooped up for weeks or months at a time, using rare warm and sunny days to make cleansing flights over short distances in front of the hive. ~ John Vivian, Keeping Bees

Sprawl in the buffalo grass by the kids’ fort, soaking up the sunshine. Traipse through a stand of scrub oak trees, their brown leaves rattling in the wind. Kick at snow still stubbornly clinging to the shady spots. Watch heeler dog Lila Jane, who is usually impervious to fear, get run off by the neighbor’s wolfish looking mutt. He’s really only being friendly, although the big lug doesn’t have any social skills. If the blue dog had a tail, it’d be tucked in between those speckled haunches.

Eat homemade gravy and biscuits. Drink root beer.

Contemplate how far one could get if one started walking down the railroad road, heading West.

Wonder at how a little bee can fly up to twelve miles looking for pollen.

Meet the new neighbor and introduce her to enthusiastically friendly Percheron horse Toby, who doesn’t realize quite how big he is. Promise riding lessons.

Have grandparents visit, and learn that when your husband was five, he and his two sisters and mom and dad got caught in a freak snowstorm in a valley on a Sunday afternoon drive somewhere near Donner’s Pass in his mother’s brand new Rambler. It was his mother ‘s first new car ever, and his dad had to walk 14 miles out in his loafers and her mod vinyl coat for help. On a surprisingly Spring-like day just like this, they were almost the tragic front-page news, although there wasn’t any CNN then. Dennis only remembers his mother singing every song she knew to them. Peas Porridge Hot, he says, that’s what he remembers.

That, and being real scared.

They dug the Rambler out six months later. It started up on the first try, his mom says.

Open a package of fresh comb honey. That irresistible, way overpriced item at the gourmet grocery store downtown. Dig into it with spoons. Feel the drawn comb explode between your teeth.

The sticky sweetness of life.